NationStates Jolt Archive

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{OOC: This takes place after the WACL meeting.}

Generalissimo J.L. was reclining in a chair, his feet perched on the back of a Shooban who was bending forward and touching its toes. The creature grimaced, whimpered, as it heard a crrrrrack sound coming from its spine. J.L. laughed, listlessly threw a few darts at an upside-down portrait of Marx, and waited for his guests to arrive.

{OOC: Just have your guest come in.}

The Hu'fievren of Zolony was unable to attend, due to his war with the Spartan Confederat.

Upon hearing of the news that the Hu'fievren of Zolony could not attend, J.L. smashed his fist into a Turta's face, spraying grape jelly-like blood everywhere.

I cannot attend, due to my busied schedule in a war against a heretic empire that is threatening my people. However, my delightful apprentice would certainly love to arrive, and she has a sharp wit and tongue to boot.
~~Authaulus the Vizi-Temsplace

Ellis was by no means, an advocate of war like her brother – she never loved the idea of a species, no matter how cruel, no matter how seemingly dominant, wanting to fracture itself by committing ritualised suicide. But she couldn’t do anything about it – she can’t change the world, she could barely change her socks. Yet she was, going in the representation of Authaulus the First, the most violent man in the Jenrakian region, one of the most violent and powerful warriors in the far, far east. But what would it do? It was only another introduction to another club supporting its own neighbourly chaos.

Yet when there was news of an amusement park, and possible many new people to meet, she was all up in heels, begging Authaulus to pick her to attend the party on her behalf. Perhaps she would meet Mr. Right there, or perhaps she could make new friends – after all, she could be a Temsplace apprentice, but that’s all she was right now; an apprentice. It would still be a while before she became a holy warrior, and still a long while before she was devoid of any possibilities of friends, and even then, Authaulus had many. His notoriety knew no bounds, and she hoped to surpass him in that.

“What would I wear, Lord?” She asked Authaulus only hours after Authaulus picked her up, and he didn’t know – he lived in side stone and metal armour, only to come out for a regular and brief, casual shower. Donning herself in a casual, but starling brown t-shirt, with black jeans to match, she was not expecting any fancy receptions, and she was never used to them.

Emperor Astar of Neberri Prime will be comming.

OOC: i'll make a better post later, as for the WACL meeting. i have not read anything in it and do not know what its about...

{OOC: Np}

OOC: Let me know if this intro is alright will edit if needed.


IC: The Patron Anton Von Bureon finally arrived in his private limousine with his two Death Korps bodyguards. The Chauffeur that drove the limousine parked and practically jumped out and opened the door for the Patron Anton Von Bureon and his guards. He then saluted and said, "We are at your destination sir."

The Patron smiled and replies, "Thank you for the pleasant ride."
One of the Guards in dress uniform detaches from the group to announce the arrival of the Patron Anton Von Bureon the head of the Grand National Union of Xharn.

The Generalissimo greeted him at the doorway. "Ah, hello, thank you for coming."

A sleek black limousine stopped, and the Sultan Khan Whyatica stepped out, shadowed by a pair of Panther Brigadesmen in their desert gear. He waved his hand, and they stayed in the limo, which parked.

The Sultan opened the door, without any ceremony, and a staff member immediately announced, "The Sultan of Whyatica!"

Khan looked at the man, and continued to walk in. He wasn't the type for...parties...but he had to make his appearance here.

[reserved for later time]

J.L. saluted the Sultan. "Ah, hello, ready to do something evil?"

"Ah, JL, Always.." the Sultan said, attempting to be friendly..

"So...ever killed a Shooban?"

The Patron replied to J.L. "Thank for the warm welcome."

"You're welcome. Would anyone like a drink?"

Almost immediately after his flight, Rhue Sombra (http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y21/Kutulmak/rhuekenji.jpg), the representative of Yurka finally made it to Party, a sword hanging from his back and a smile on his face. The twenty-three year old leader of House Sombra was looking forward to meeting the distinguished Generalissimo J.L. ever since he witnessed him cut down a large group of Scientologists that time so long ago. He then spotted Generalissimo asking if anyone wanted a drink, in such a charismatic manner befitting a man of his status.

"I'll have some gin!"

The waiter handed him some gin. "Enjoy."

J.L., brandishing his sword, asked, "Want to kill some Scientologists?"

Rhue quickly chugged the glass of gin with a grateful nod before looking over to the Generalissimo, quickly pulling the sword from behind his back.

"Are there any left?!"

The Patron Anton Von Bureon smiled and said, "Do you have any whiskey?"

"Whiskey? But of course." J.L. snapped his fingers, and the waiter returned with some.

To Rhue, he said: "Yes, there are. There are about 33 in the next room."

"I cannot say I ever have killed any Shoobans, Generallissimo. Are you offering some?" The Sultan said, prominently displaying his wicked family scimitar. The Sword of Whyatica, rumored to have mystical powers..

Rhue literally began to drool as he heard those magical words, 'There are about 33 in the next room.' They didn't have Scientologists in Yurka, so he had to make due with imported Shoobans and Turtas, along with political prisoners and the random foreign communist. It was almost as if the man was reading his mind.

"We don't have Scientologists in Yurka. Would it really be alright?" He said with an innocent smile whipping the sword in front of him repeatedly, "Heh heh heh..."

"Sure, help yourselves, guys. There are both Shoobans, Turtas, and Scientologists in the next room. You guys can kill as many as you want. And if you run out, I can have them bring more from the breeding pens outside."

The Patron smiles but before he drinks the whiskey he hands it to one of his guards. The Death Korps guard takes a sip to make sure it is safe.

"Ffffffttt..... *crunch*....Ffffffttt.... *crunch*" That was the sound of J.L's darts hitting Marx's portrait.

So when one of the the darts went "Fffff---", this was cause for concern for J.L.

Delicate fingers ending in razor sharp claws twirled the dart around, before sending it off into a Shooban's eye. The creature screamed and staggered around in pain before it pulled the dart from its eye. Then, its purplish blood began to spray everywhere.

There was a crunch as a muscular, flesh-toned tail slammed into Shooban with the force of a steel I-beam dropped from 500 meters above. Shooban guts spattered everywhere.

"J.L.... you know better than to throw darts at Marx's portrait." Her hair was dark, and her skin like porcelain. Thousands of razor sharp teeth sat behind a rosebud mouth, which was, like her crimson eyes playing games with J.L and anyone else that was there.

And that ladies and gentlemen, was the entrance of Maia Li, the daughter of MassPwnage's leader, the Great Leader Li.

Khan looked at the Yurkan man standing next to him and said,

"Whoever kills the most people wins!"

He motioned for the Yurkan to join him in the next room..

"Ah, Maia, long time no see. Hungry?" J.L. held out a Shooban leg.

"Wow... Alchohol and murder... This really is a glorious party..." Rhue mumbled as he walked for the door, following the Sultan in a sort of daze, his sword hanging tightly as he essentially seemed to not notice the Shooban's noisy death.

A middle aged delivery man entered, rolling in an incredibly tall coffin, before positioning it neatly in the corner. The coffin was made of very finely crafted jarrah, with a gold script reading, “The Professor.” The fit looking brown haired man then walked over to JL, giving him a clipboard, “Just sign for it here, please.”

J.L. nodded. "Sure, no problem." He took the pen and signed. Then, he stabbed the pen into a Scientologist's carotid artery. Blood began to spurt everywhere as, gagging, the Scientologist fell in a heap onto the floor, as a trail of blood oozed across the carpet.

"Alright, are you ready?" The Sultan asked of the Yurkan man.

"Three...two....one...GO!" He exclaimed, as he gutted a Scientologist, withdrew his sword, and chopped at a Shooban..

The Patron Anton Von Bureon once satisfied the whiskey was not poisoned begins to drink. The Death Korps Guards silently hold their positions at each end of the Patron Anton Von Bureon.

J.L. decided to join in on the fun. He took a bottle of whiskey, poured it all over a Shooban, sprayed gasoline onto it, sprinkled gunpowder into its hair and eyes, and set it alight.

Rhue quickly rushed across the room, his feet tapping harmoniously against the floor before he finally dove forward, slashing through a Scientologist's throat with a lightning fast slice, sending a wave of blood flying at him as he quickly took a step back and impaled a woman on the end, slowly whipping it upwards and out of her with a blood-filled shriek, quickly silenced as he brought it up faster, cutting most of her face in half as he turned his sights to a Shooban hiding in the corner.

"Hehe this is fun!" He shouted out happily as he rushed forward, leaping at the screaming creature as his sword sunk home in it's head, pointing out the back of it's neck, "Mwah hah hah! Take this Commie bastard!"

The delivery man took back the clipboard and promptly left, muttering something that sounded like, “Weirdos,” under his breath.

J.L. stopped the delivery man. "Wait...is...is..." Struggling back tears, he asked, "Is Professor Walter in this coffin?"

The Patron Anton Von Bureon starts to laugh at the sight of the burning Shooban. The Death Korps Guards stay silent by they also seem to enjoy watching these inferior creatures suffering.

J.L. nodded at the guards. "By all means, feel free to join us."

Rhue was already covered in large quantities of blood as he whipped the sword out of the skull as messily as possible, turning to a woman who was staring at him, horrified. He slowly brought the sword to eye level and licked the edge, then tasted the Turta blood and spit it out onto one of the plentiful corpses before continuing the insane killing spree.

"Die whore!" He almost screamed as he ran forward and stabbed her repeatedly, with a series of quick thrusts between her ribs, "Haha! Next time get a real religion!"

He slowly pulled his sword away from the screaming woman, who was now on the floor bleeding to death as he walked over to Generalissimo, who seemed upset about something. This didn't stop him from quickly thrusting his sword into a nearby Shooban's face, however.

"Generalissimo, are you alright?" He said, blood covering his entire body as he looked at the man with a frown.

The coffin shook back and forward just slightly as though it was nodding towards JL’s question.

J.L. nodded. "I'll be fine. It's just, an old friend of mine..." He shook his head.

A Shooban placed its sweaty, urine-smelling hand on his shoulder. "Iz yoos O.K., Mastah?"

"Get your fucking hand off me!" J.L. bellowed, and was so invigorated by rage he thrust his fist into its cranium and pried out its tiny brain, causing blood to splatter everywhere.

The Death Korps Guards look at the Patron for approval.

Patron Anton Von Bureon smiles and said, "enjoy yourselves that's an order."

The Death Korps guards reply at the same time, "Yes, My Patron."

Emperor Lucius I arrived that day in a long silver limousine with tinted windows and the Bandurian coat of arms painted on the sides. Getting off stiffly and approaching the Generalissimo's palace, followed by several impassive Shadower bodyguards in black bodysuits and another man clad in a red cloak, Lucius approached the doorway. As he was announced, he removed his overcoat and handed it to one of the guards. Lucius was clad in steel-grey and imperial blue; a black cloak fastened with a wolf skull covered his shoulders. Lucius was a kindly-looking man of about fifty years, his dark hair silvering slightly; his only armament was a 6mm sidearm, a high-quality Bandurian automatic pistol.

The man next to him in the red cloak was Lord Antor Sampetra, the stern-faced general of Banduria's immense armies. He and Lucius were old friends. They approached the lounge where the party seemed to be taking place, conversing in subdued tones about their days in the 9th Legion together, long before Lucius arose to the throne.

"I'm sorry for your loss... I'll make sure to kill enough for him as well." He said with a smile as he quickly read the coffin, which was moving a bit.

Turning towards the room, he quickly looked at a Shooban, "Hold my sword for me..." He sighed for a moment, then thrust the sword into the thing's stomach and rushed forward at the nearest scientologist, leaping mid-air and sending the man to the floor as he headbutted him and with one gracefull motion, ripping out the man's eye and spit it to the side.

"Die you stupid bastard! This is for the Professor!!!" He shouted maniacally as he quickly rose his a fist into the air as he repeatedly smashed it into the man's face, as his other slowly gouged out the man's remaining eye. He growled a bit doing this, as the man's skull was much harder than he would suspected from a weak Scientologist, "Grrr!"

J.L. thanked Rhue for his commiseration. "Bless you, my friend. I thank y-"

He paused in mid-sentence when he saw his friend, the Emperor of Banduria. "Ah, hello! Please, come join us."

The Death Korps guards put down their standard issue M-16A2 rifles and pull out their combat knives and head towards the carnage...

“What’s for me?” asked the coffin, rocking back and forward.

The Sultan expertly cut down Shoobans and Scientologists like they weren't even there. Getting himself covered in blood, he didn't care as he became at a rage to kill..He roundhouse kicked a Shooban, slamming it into the wall of the room in a crumpled heap. With a flick, he threw his sword at the Shooban, impaling him to the wall. He then proceeded to beat Shoobans and Scientologists to death with merely his fists..

"Having fun?" he asked the Yurkan..

Lucius smiled warmly. "Good afternoon, J.L.! How is everything these days? Succeeded yet in utterly driving communism from Roach-Busters' borders?"

A random Shooban approached the Bandurian Emperor out of sheer accident, and was met with a 6mm slug from Lucius's silenced automatic pistol, whipped out in a swift motion. Lord Sampetra laughed heartily. "Not lost your touch yet, I see." Turning to the Generalissimo, he said, "Generalissimo, I'm Lord Antor Sampetra—you may have heard of me, the Bandurian military commander, and an old friend of Lucius."

"Thanks."

Maia took the Shooban leg.

She looked around, her slit shaped pupils narrowing every time she focused in on something.

"So, where are the others, you know, Helldawg, Kazatmiru, Khosuru, those guys. All we have here so far are a bunch of maniacs that are running around hacking people to pieces. Wasn't that your secretary that guy just stabbed?"

Maia shrugged and took a seat on a nearby comfy chair, which would complete torture most normal humans, but Maia was not a human, she was lizard hybrid, which explained the claws and the huge tail.

"Anyway... while they kill your staff members, let's try to set up a decent agenda for the club, shall we?"

The Death Korps Guards chase down a Shooban. They start slashing the frightened beast until they finally had enough playing with it and slashed it's throat from ear to ear.

"Yes... I... Am..." He said with a smile to the Sultan, smiling as he continued slamming what was left of the Scientologist's head into the floor, bone and brain crackling all over the place, "Hehe... I've never been to a party like this before..."

Rhue slowly took a step back and whipped the sword out from the Shooban, releasing a sickly gurgle as he looked for his next target, in the meantime decapitating a Turta with a single slash as it rushed by, it's legs still carrying it as it comically ran into a wall and fell over. He then dove a hand into the nearest torso and ripped around in there untill he found what he was looking for, the intestines. He them whipped it forward around the nearest woman's neck, who was now in hysteria from all the violence happening around her, and quickly whipped her forward towards his sword, impaling her in a lung.

"So Sultan, do you have these kind of parties where you're from?"

"No, never..I doubt my voters would enjoy seeing me do this back in Whyatica.."
Khan said,
"Oh, forgive me, I never introduced myself. I am Sultan Khan Whyatica I, of the Democratic Sultanate of Whyatica. And yourself?"

Rhue quickly kicked the body away, the intestines still around her neck as he quickly broke into a bow, then grabbed the man's hand in a firm shake. Despite the fact that he had just killed so many with this Sultan, it was always important to be as formal as possible when it came to introductions. Foreign relations were one of the Emperor's buttons lately, and he really didn't want to push it.

"I am Rhue Sombra, Representative of House Sombra on the Circle of Nobles... From The Eternal Empire of Yurka." He continued with a smile, blood dripping from his hair he finally relinquished the handshake, "I don't really have approval from the Emperor to do this... Though I've been able to bring in Shoobans and Turtas, along with foreign communists."

The Patron Anton Von Bureon watched his men work and laughed. It was sights like this that made his job fun and exciting.

The Death Korps guards continue their brutal onslaught practically tag teaming against their victims...

The Sultan smiled, and yanked his sword out of the Shooban where it was embedded. For good luck, he gave a bone-shattering kick to the unlucky Shooban who was impaled by it.

While grabbing a towel and wiping off his sword, he said, "Yurka..Very strong nation. How is the Emperor, by the way?"

The Sultan spoke as if he and Emperor Drake Yurka III were good friends, while in fact the Emperor had probably never heard of the Sultan..

"Oh the Emperor is well..." Rhue placed a hand on his cheek in thought as he sheathed the sword behind his back, leaving a large red hand-print over his face. He wasn't aware that the Emperor had made relations with these people, but he had been relatively busy as of late, "Hes actually due back from a vacation with his youngest children. I'm sure he would have liked to come though. So Sultan, do you have kids?"

"No, I don't have kids. You?"

Rhue leaned back and burst into an almost maniacal laughter, "Hahaha... Nope, I've never really been able to stand them. They always manage to get on my nerves, and they always manage to disappoint, don't you agree?"

"I'm inclined to agree..I despise children. Watching those little hoodlums run around shopping centers with idiotic parents always annoys the hell out of me. I almost wish I could make laws outlawing idiot parents, but I can't, really.."

"Ah well, wouldn't do well in the polls I take it?" Rhue said with a smile as he walked back into the main room and had a seat, his clothes still covered in blood, "I suppose it can't be helped though in a Democracy."

Khan agreed.

"There are times when I absolutely despise democracy..May as well just outlaw the whole process."

He called up a servant, "Can I get some towels, here? Oh, and bring some for Mr. Sombra as well."

Rhue looked over at the waiter and nodded, "And bring me some rum. All of that killing made me a little parched." He said innocently, as if it were no big deal, "Ah, Democracies are rather inefficient if you ask me. How do you expect uneducated people to know whats really better for them? Most people are like children, they simply can't make well thought-out decisions on their own."

the next person to arrive was Emperor Astar...

OOC: to paint a picture of Astar... he is 24 years old, fairly handsom, has Brown hair(flat and commed forward) and currently is wharing a plain black shirt and jeans. sorry for any spelling errors(not the best speller and have no spell check right now)

"I'll have whiskey." The Sultan said to the waiter.

"Yes, yes. Uneducated hordes thinking they can make the best things for themselves..In my nation, people sit there and complain about the environment in one moment and ask for huge government help to the auto industry in the next. The idiotic voters cannot make up their minds what they want. Too many interventionalist regimes around to prevent me from removing the democracy.."

"Ah... Sovereignity is a beautiful thing, isn't it?" Rhue said with a smile as the waiter returned with towels and the drinks, "Thanks."

"Well if you really have so much trouble changing your form of government, perhaps you just need a little help?" Rhue Sombra said with a sort of double meaning, slowly sipping at the alchoholic goodness with a pleased sigh, "The world would be better off without those regimes stepping in. The Emperor himself said a few years ago before we broke out of our isolationism..."

Rhue laughed a bit, nearly saying something he shouldn't have as he chugged the glass of alchohol.

"Yes, Sovereignty is excellent, however..You have nations like Allanea..Intervening in every possible way. My intelligence reports say he was searching for a reason to invade Whyatica, so I recalled all patrolling fleets to the Gulf and waited. Luckily, it never came..Shows you all the nutcase regimes out there willing to attack others who don't see their way.."

He sipped at his whiskey carefully and went on,

"Removing the democracy would be easy to do on my own, but thank you nonetheless..On another matter, how is your war against Czardas going?"

"Oh... Well they managed to fire a few thousand torpedos at our fleet from about three hundred kilometers away. They were probably nuclear powered, but we were able to stop enough of them. Our next attacks should have nearly zero casualties on our front. Unfortunately thats all I'm at liberty to say now..."

He grabbed another alchoholic beverage off the tray and began to drink like water, small droplets coming from the side of his mouth.

"Mmm... Now as for those bastards in Allanea..." Rhue said as he leaned back more, seemingly at ease, "Well they can't boss you around... We've had them kill millions of our people. That was a pretty long time ago, but should they intervene you can count on us. Don't worry."

Rhue smiled a bit as he stared at the other guests and pulled out his sword, using it to trip a Shooban as it walked by, quickly slicing off the thing's head.

"Now where was I? I wonder if we should start talking about our plans for this organization we have?"

The Sultan nodded, and in an attempt to one-up Rhue, he put his sword facing vertically on the ground, and tripped another Shooban, who fell on top of it.

"I get the feeling this place is more of a party atmosphere than an actual organization.."

Crown Prince Khaldun (http://www.freewebs.com/thetransylvania/Khaldun.JPG), in the place of his father, arrived in his armor (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/KsArmor.jpg) and riding his brown horse to the front doors of J.L.’s palace. He had an Egyptian saber on his side and the shield on his back. He hopped down from the horse and “Take my horse to the stable.” he said to one of J.L.’s servants.

After that he walked into the palace and where this party was happening. With his helmet under his left arm, he walked over to J.L. “My Father told me to come to this. He is doing other things right now.” he said.

“What’s for me?” asked the coffin, rocking back and forward.

"Holy fuck!" J.L. jumped back, startled, and pointed his gun at the coffin. "Who or what the fuck are you?"

J.L. nodded to the newly arrived Prince and Emperor. "Welcome. We're just hunting, as you've probably insinuated from the blood on my clothes."

"Holy fuck!" J.L. jumped back, startled, and pointed his gun at the coffin. "Who or what the fuck are you?"
“Who do I look like, you foul mouthed cretin?” yelled back the violently shaking coffin.

Tentatively, J.L. opened the coffin. Then, he leapt back, drew his sword, and stood, vigilant, as he waited for whatever lurked within to emerge.

“Not the light,” whined the coffin.

As the light seeped in, it illuminated the tall figure of the Professor, still wearing his best suit and top hat, toaster resting in the corner, with three monkeys resting in the coffin with him.

Professor Michael James Walter’s eyes opened and he took one step out, “Ah, the light.”

He then saw the Generalissimo, holding a large sword, “I suppose it was you I called a foul mouth cretin.”

Promptly he took one step backwards into the coffin, slamming the door shut behind him, but not before one of the monkeys could escape and clamber onto JL.

"Egads!" J.L. explained, throwing the monkey off. He re-opened the coffin. "Professor, c'mon out and join the party. I don't care if you're dead!"

“Well if you insist,” said the Professor, lifting his top hat as a sign of greeting; not to mention allowing a trapped monkey to escape and start clambering around.

The Professor then smiled, returned his hat to his head, picked up his toaster and cane, then closed his incredibly tall coffin.

“So what’s happening JL?” asked the Professor as a monkey climbed up his body, before perching on his narrow shoulders.

"Erm...not much..." J.L. wriggled his nose, trying desperately to ignore the deathly odor emanating from the Professor. "So, how's it like, being uh...d- er, not among the living?"

Lucius I shuddered with slight distaste. Not because he had never seen brutally slaughtered "people" before, if one could even call Shoobans, Turtas, and Scientologists people, but because he disliked the idea of killing as a sport. He looked around the outer room, noting the presence of Maia Li, the Transylvanian Prince, and Emperor Astar along with the deathly-looking professor in the coffin.

Lord Antor Sampetra began looking for something to drink...

“I’m not very dead,” said the Professor, “Mainly its just a technicality; to get out of paying my taxes and stop the Moralists trying to kill me. Its only been for a few months; but death is working out quite well.”

With one swift movement, he bashed his cane into the head of a passing shooban, splattering skull and brain a good distance, “Now that is well and truly dead.”

The Patron Anton Von Bureon watches in awe at the deathly man that just bashed in a Shooban's head. The Patron Anton then looks at his Death Korps guards dissembling a howling Shooban.

The Patron sighs and snaps his fingers. The Death Korps guards immediately clean off their combat knives and pick up their M-16A2 rifles. They take their positions on each end of the Patron.

Khaldun walked away from J.L. and the Professor. “Why did you sent me here, Father?” he asked himself aloud. “To come here and kill things. I could to that back in the Dominion.” He looked around the room, only see three or four people he knew or seen a picture. He stop on Lucius I before walking over to him. “The Emperor of Banduria.” he said. “Right?” He held out his right hand to the man.

Rhue Sombra sat tossed the bloody towel to a waiter and replaced it with another glass of rum, sipping at it as he watched everyone talk around him. So far it had been rather fun, though there was probably more important things to talk about. Though he figured after a few more drinks he would probably just want to kill more scientologists...

"So, what else do you guys like to kill?" J.L. asked. "I have Shoobans, Turtas, Scientologists, Christian Identity, KKK, Nazis, Communists, Black Panthers, Al Qaeda, La Raza, emos, vegans, pagans, hippies, child molesters, and all sorts of other scum, for your killing pleasure."

Jench Fersas had been told to fly to Roach Busters for the Who Gives A Damn About Human Rights Party, and he did so in style, wearing a uniform rather close the whites of military officers, but with some lacking features, since Fersas was not a military officer, he was simply one regarded as the second most powerful man in the Empire. With that attitude he arrived in Roach Busters and was taken by private escort to the location of the conference, and when he arrived the sorroundings looked rather strange, but he met up with the rest of the group nonetheless, breaking in just as J.L asked, "...else do you like to kill?"

Fersas chuckeled within him, not showing too much outwards emotion, and said when it was opportune, "Apologies, I have arrived late. This is my first time in any of these types of...meetings... so, what's going on?"

Field Marshall Halibard (http://aznangelgurlcc.tripod.com/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderpictures/.pond/kakashi.jpg.w300h225.jpg) sighed as the vehicle he was in stopped at the house of Generalissmio. With conflicts in Pananab, Jenrak, and a conflict brewing with Willink, the last place he (a major commander) needed to be was at the home of Generalissmio J.L, some politican could have taken care of this.

As he exited the vehicle he appaorched the front door, he was of coarse flanked by two Heaven's Knights (http://www.worldofwarcraft.com/shared/wow-com/images/characters/concept/paladin.jpg), the elite guard of all Jagadian government officals, tall and extremely imposing figures which would not hesistate to take out anyone, including Halibard if ordered. He nodded to the guards at J.L's front door and entered. Him and his Knights had to go in single file, with on knight in front of him and one behind him.

As he entered the room the imposing Knights took their stations to his flanks. As Halibard removed his military hat. Suddenly the smell of blood washed over him, he felt a little ill for a moment, but made no expression of it. He look and noticed J.L and saw the blood stains on his uniform, and he knew why a politican couldn't be at a party like that.

"Greetings gentlemen, I am Field Marshall Halibard of the Trinity Empire of Jagada," he stated, "I apologize for my late arrival."

Fersas wrinkled his nose as the Jagadans walked in. Although Jagada had gone through a bloody civil war and revolution the wounds of the Colonial War, which had been merged into the War of Golden Succession, still raging, had not been fully healed. Truthfully, the Empire had come out victorious, but the Empire's atitude was not centered at attempt to gain reconciliation. It was merely focused on what they thought was a lesser people. Fersas was a slightly more learned man, but it had rubbed off on him in the recent years. Nonetheless, he kept his composure and allowed for etiquette as much as possible. Approaching the Jagadan field marshall he extended his hand for a handshake and said, "Ah good, at least I'm not the only one that arrived late."

He cracked a small smile and then said, "It's good to hear that Jagada has emerged from her dark days."

Marshall Halibard noticed the Macabee walking towards him. He immiedately had to signal the Heaven's Knights flanking him to calm down and not attack. Macabees were hated in Jagada. Hated more than Freeks, Sarzonians, and even Moslems put together and increased eight fold. Shoobans weren't considered humans by Jagadian law, but they weren't imported or allowed to be imported for moral reasons. Though it was to say that on the foot chain a Jagadian put a Shooban above a Macabee.

Halibard extended his hand and shook the hand of the Macabee delegation, even though every organ, cell, tissue, DNA in his body screamed out with dishonor as he touched what Jagada considered "The Filthy". "Yes sir, we hav done quite well surviving a nuclear holocaust, and how may I ask if your own civil war coming along? Well I hope."

Fersas cleared his throat and then responded, "The situation has been alleviated a bit. The Weigari rebels have been sorrounded at the Nestor, while they are continously hammered at Mons Dei by the Killians, and soon by us. In other words, the war is progressing with momentum growing exponentially for His Imperial Majesty, Fedor."

He could feel a slight twitch in the man's skin between the thumb and the finger closest to it, and he knew that it was involuntary - invonlutary due to the growing hatred of the Macabee people within Jagada. He decided not to pursue that matter foward, "Alas, it was rather unfortunate that the Empire and Jagada had ever met at war in the colonies, but we must put that behind us I suppose."

With that, he turned, side by side with the Jagadan field marshall, both at around the same tall heigth, and he peered at what the others were doing.

[OOC: I decided that the invasion of my mainland never happened, just the colonial front.]

The Patron Anton Von Bureon took a quick glance at the new arrival. Then went back to his whiskey. The Death Korps Guards still in their full uniform continue to guard the Patron.

OOC:
Pic of Death Korps guards:
http://i30.photobucket.com/albums/c309/Xharnia/shadowkorps.gif

Glorified Bump!

Rhue Sombra (http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y21/Kutulmak/rhuekenji.jpg) leaned back in his chair and smiled as he began to clean his sword carefully, every so often staring at the rest of the delegation. His clothes were now covered in dried blood, along with his hair, but he didn't want to bring his sword back messy, since it was really a matter of honor. So far he'd had a lot of fun at this party, much more than he'd ever had in Yurka, for the most part.

"Ugh... J.L. what do you think would get this Shooban blood off of my clothes?"

The Generalissimo slowly stirred awake, having passed out from excessive consumption of alcohol. His vision was blurry, and the world seemed to be swerving and spinning out of control. "Huh...wha?" He smacked himself, and immediately the disorientation and drunken stupor went away. Clearing his throat, he regained his composure, stood, and greeted Jench Fersas and Field Marshal Halabard. "Ah, hello, and welcome," he said warmly. He gaped, awestruck, at the amount of blood on Rhue's clothes. He had not Rhue's question, but he said: "You might want to change clothes. I can have my drycleaner clean that up for you."

“Who needs clothes?” declared Professor Walter.

He removed his top hat; then feeling indecent, returned it promptly to his head, before ordering his monkeys to try and eat the shoobans, while keeping them alive.

The Patron Anton Von Bureon grabs another bottle of whiskey and begins to drown down his problems again. The Death Korps guards begin to wrestle the bottle out of their leader's hands before something bad happens.